


Ester

by ofnoex



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:34:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24129781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofnoex/pseuds/ofnoex
Summary: There is only one place he knows of on this ship where he could get enough bandages and still leave sufficient inventory behind.
Relationships: Nehan/Six | Seox (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	Ester

It was his toughest mission in months, and Six was unlucky enough to have to carry it out on a rainy night. His soaked through clothing cling vise-like onto him, locking the flesh beneath into place, and it takes all of his effort to lift his already tired limbs high enough to not trip on the Grandcypher gangway. Lyria and Vyrn are waiting for him on the deck, even though the strong gusts rendered their parasol useless as the raindrops begin to pelt against them horizontally.

He lets them chatter his ear off as they lead him into his temporary lodging; Six never stays for long, and never in the same room. This one smells a little like a warehouse. The window opens with a small creak of protest, and then he is left to his own devices. He wants to lay down until his clothes dry so he doesn't have to peel them off, but the chill makes his bones rattle from deep within. He drops his gauntlets on the table. The bandages he used as cushioning for his gauntlets had suffered the same drenching as the rest of his clothes, except they're not even half as hardy and now hang grey and thin off his fingers. He shakes them off his hands and showers quickly, changing into his last set of clean clothes, then picks up his clothes for the laundry service.

There is only one place he knows of on this ship where he could get enough bandages and still leave sufficient inventory behind.

\---

It is late, and Nehan has had enough of patching people up. He's a chemist, not a doctor. Even so, he lets Gran fill his basket up with medical supplies without much complain, though he firmly put his foot down at scalpels. He's ready to retire into his alcove when a hesitant knock on his door interrupts him. The thin strip of light beneath his door would have indicated his presence already, plus, it could be someone he nearly murdered during the Magasin debacle, so he opens the door.

Only to see hair the same colour as his. The swaying lamp above their heads etches deep shadows on the other man's mask. He considers closing the door on Six, but the other manages to edge his feet just over the threshold and Nehan's not cruel enough to break someone's toes just because.

The younger erune shuffles past him. "...bandages."

Nehan turns and glances at the exposed back and arms. He sees old scars but no new injuries nor reasons for him to waste medical supplies. "For my fists," Six continues lamely, sounding only a bit contrite, and Nehan understands. He walks over to his desk and takes a very large new roll out from the drawer, offering it silently with a flick of his wrist. Six tears into the packet immediately, clearly more comfortable now that he's doing something he's actually used to. He sits gingerly on the one armchair Nehan has in the sickbay, and starts weaving the bandages in between his fingers.

"Do it in your room. Better yet, just keep the whole roll."

"I don't get to keep stuff. I don't have a permanent room," Six shrugs. He fumbles to finish tucking in the ends of the bandages. When he is done, he places the roll gingerly back on the desk. Nehan waits for him to leave, but he doesn't yet. Finally, in a pitch higher than normal, Six blurts out, "I'll need to bother again next time."

Nehan cannot tell the expression the other is making behind his mask, but it pleases him inexplicably to see Six's ears twitch. He makes a non-committal sound in his throat, then, "Fine."

Just like that, Six dips his chin down slightly and leaves. Nehan sighs. His eyes flick down to the substantial roll of leftover bandages, a thoughtful look on his face. He fusses with the stationery, eventually picking the roll up with him as he ducks behind the curtains into the alcove. His private space is cluttered but neat, with shelves taking up most of the wall space. He clears one out, then places the roll on it. Its new label glints slightly in the weak candlelight.

_Property of Xing_


End file.
